In Time Of Need

A JAG Fan-Fic By

Sheri Mitchell

sheri@mountainport.ca

http://mountainport.ca/JAG/JHIntro.htm

Harm woke up screaming – again.

The nightmares were back, and now, he always recalled every horrific, grisly detail. Sometimes, the dreams were fairly accurate accounts of what he’d been through in the prison: the interrogations, the agony of hanging by his wrists for hours in the brutal heat, the weeks on end with nothing but filthy scraps to eat and a few drops of brown, foul smelling water to drink. Other times, his mind served up a twisted, macabre version in which Mac was there with him. Sometimes, she was just there, lying motionless on the floor of the pit, but worst of all were the dreams where Mac was screaming.

She cried out his name, over and over, the agony in her voice ripping his soul to shreds, but he couldn’t get to her. He was hanging over the pit and couldn’t move, even though nothing visible restrained him. Those were the times when his screams mingled with hers.

Bathed in sweat, Harm laid in bed, trying to get his breathing under control. It had been a week and a half since their return from Afghanistan and every day that went by brought closer the moment when he would learn if the men who had done these things to him were actually US Marines. The very thought of it still made him sick to his stomach.

Mac was still on Chegwidden’s shit-list for telling Harm about their suspicions, but given the circumstances, the admiral had agreed not to charge her with disobeying an order. Things were as normal as they could be around the office, but that old feeling was back. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him, and if he thought about it, Harm really couldn’t blame them. He’d been a total bear lately.

Knowing he would never get back to sleep, he threw aside the covers and rolled out of bed. It was only a couple of hours till he had to get up anyway. A quick shower got rid of the sweat, but nothing would chase the images from his mind except time. Toweling his hair dry, Harm let out a snort at that one. Just about the time this morning’s dream faded, he’d be in the middle of a new nightmare tonight.

JAG HQ – 07:45

On his way into the bullpen, Harm nearly collided with Mac as she breezed through the big double doors. “Oops! Morning, Mac. Where’s the fire?”

“In the conference room. The admiral has called a briefing.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Harm, I think the DNA results are back.”

Not even bothering to drop off his briefcase, Harm turned and followed her to the conference room.

The admiral and Sturgis Turner were waiting for them. No one said a word as they entered and took their seats, but the tension was thick enough to taste. In his usual unflappable way, the admiral waited till everyone was settled before looking around the room at each of his officers in turn. His gaze landed on Harm and stuck.

“The results of the DNA samples collected at the Afghan prison are in. Two of the men tested are US Marines.”

The air rushed from Harm’s lungs as the world tilted slightly to the left. As though somehow detached from his body, Harm observed the others. Mac’s hands, folded in front of her on the table, clenched tightly. Across the table, Sturgis sat rigidly, his lips tightening and his brow dropping. The admiral didn’t move, didn’t say a word.

“How are we going to proceed, Admiral?”

Mac’s question yanked Harm back inside himself. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he worked on focusing on the admiral’s words.

“They will be tried for desertion, of course, which means we have a very difficult time ahead of us, especially you, Colonel.”

Mac stared at the admiral as her gut clenched into a painful fist. Surely he wasn’t going to ask her to defend these monsters! She couldn’t do it. She didn’t have an ounce of objectivity where this was concerned and she didn’t particularly care to find any. “Admiral, if you’re going to ask me to—”

“Prosecute, Colonel,” the admiral cut in. “You will be prosecuting.”

Mac let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“And Commander Turner will sit second chair,” the admiral went on. He turned and looked very pointedly at Harm. “You, Commander, are completely, totally and utterly uninvolved in this investigation. Do I make myself clear?”

Harm sat up very straight, very fast. “Admiral, with all due respect, I—”

“Commander, may I remind you that you are the victim here? You’re likely to be the prosecution’s main witness. I will not have the integrity of this proceeding compromised by any appearance of impropriety. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir, but—”

“Harm,” Mac said quickly, “the admiral’s right. If you’re going to be a witness, you can’t be involved in the investigation. The defense will tear the case to pieces.” She turned to the admiral, hoping to deflect Harm, at least for a few minutes. “Speaking of defense, sir. Who will be defending the accused?”

“It seems we’ve been handled something of a golden horseshoe there. Considering the commander’s current duty assignment, the accused have expressed concern that they will not receive fair representation from anyone in JAG, so they’ve hired civilian attorneys.”

Sturgis let out a breath. “They’re probably right, sir. I can’t imagine anyone in this office who would want to defend these particular people.”

“I realize the difficulty with objectivity,” the admiral agreed. His gaze strayed to Harm and Mac was certain she saw it soften slightly. “One of our own is involved...” Abruptly, he snapped to, suddenly all business again. “And that’s why we need to be especially diligent, people. We cannot afford to let our personal feelings affect the way this case is presented.”

Deep inside, Mac knew the admiral was right, but he was dead wrong, too. Her feelings were very much a part of this case and she’d use every single one of them to ensure a conviction against the animals who came so close to destroying the man she loved.

****

The moment the conference broke up, Mac and Sturgis went to her office to begin planning strategy. Harm was right on their heels. “Mac I want to throw everything in the book at them, from disrespect to desertion.”

Mac stopped so abruptly he almost ran into her. “Harm, didn’t you hear the admiral? You are not a member of the team this time. You’re the victim.”

“And I’ll be damned if I’m going to act like one,” he growled.

Sturgis, ever the mediator, stepped between them, facing Harm. “Then act like what you are, a naval officer. Buddy, you’ve got to let us do this our way. Come on, we’re all sickened and disgusted by what they did. We will nail them, but it’s not going to be easy, so don’t make our lives anymore difficult, all right?”

Harm blew out a frustrated breath and took a step back. Mac sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Sturgis was on the team. There were times he could get through to Harm when no one else could.

“All right, all right,” Harm acquiesced, “but I meant what I said. Throw the book at them!”

Sturgis gently guided him back a few steps and closed the door, almost in Harm’s face, then turned to her. “If I had my way, I’d throw a nuke at them, but since the law is all we have to work with, I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“So am I,” she told him as they took their seats. “We’ve got desertion, of course, but let’s add aiding the enemy, disrespect of a superior and striking a superior.”

“Don’t forget conspiracy,” Sturgis added.

Mac made a few notes, then glanced up. She and Sturgis looked at each other for a moment. “Doesn’t seem like enough, does it?”

Sturgis’s deep, resonant voice took on a hard edge. “No, it doesn’t, but then, I don’t think they have a classification for that kind of barbarism.”

Mac sighed. “Still, it’s enough to put them away for life.”

“If we can prove it. What do you think their defense strategy will be?”

Mac hesitated. She’d been giving that a lot of thought, and wasn’t sure she liked what she came up with. “In a nutshell, it’ll most likely be mistaken identity. They’ll claim they were, in fact, prisoners and Harm is wrong.”

“Then why not come forward when we took over the camp?” he asked.

“Good question, but I can’t see another strategy, can you?”

“No, I can’t,” he admitted.

****

They got the answer to their question of defense strategy a few hours later when the first documents were delivered from the defense attorneys. Sturgis came into Mac’s office carrying the papers. “You were right on the money. They’re claiming they weren’t guards, merely prisoners.”

“And the reason they didn’t identify themselves when we took the camp?” Mac asked quickly.

“You’re not going to believe this. They’re claiming they heard some important information from one of the other prisoners and decided,” his tone turned caustic, “at great personal risk, to keep their identities a secret in hopes of learning more.”

“What a load of bull!” Mac snorted. “Do they say what this ‘important information’ was?”

“Not here, they don’t, but if they can come up with something compelling, I’m sorry to say it just might be an effective smokescreen.”

“Not when faced with Harm’s testimony,” she replied.

His expression clouding, Sturgis slipped into a chair. He hesitated a moment. “Mac, you’ve got to know they’re going to try and impeach him.”

Mac’s chin dropped slightly. “I know.”

It was the one thing bothering her most about this whole business. Harm would have to get on the witness stand and tell his story, in detail. As far as she knew, she was the only one he’d shared any details with at all, and the little he’d told her was sketchy. Assuming he could bring himself to tell everyone of the humiliation and torture, the defense would then try to tear him down.

“Sturgis, if there were any other way, I wouldn’t put him on the stand at all, but he’s the key to this whole thing.”

“I know,” he replied, “but don’t worry. Harm’s a good officer and a damned good lawyer. He knows how the game is played.”

Mac nodded. That didn’t mean he had to like them playing the game with him as the ball.

****

Mac spent the rest of the morning holed up with Sturgis. When they finally emerged for lunch, she went straight to Harm’s office, but the door was closed and the lights were out. A slight feeling of panic grabbed at her. Spinning on her heel, she spotted Lt. Simms nearby. “Harriet, have you seen Cmdr. Rabb?”

“No, ma’am, not since first thing this morning. After he left your office, he went in to see the admiral. He left shortly after that and I haven’t seen him since.”

Now Mac was really worried. She hurried to the admiral’s office. Tiner admitted her right away. “Admiral, Lt. Simms says she saw Cmdr. Rabb leave the building after talking to you this morning. Did he...is everything all right, sir?”

“As far as I know,” the admiral responded. “I gave the commander the day off. Thought it would be a good idea to get him out of your hair for awhile.”

Mac smiled. “I appreciate that, sir.”

“I know it’s early, but how is the case shaping up?” he asked.

“It’s going to be...interesting,” she admitted. “They’re claiming they were prisoners and that they didn’t come forward right away because of an intelligence gathering opportunity among the prisoners.”

The admiral leaned back in his chair. “Novel approach.”

“Yes sir, and possibly a damaging one,” Mac replied, her anger already starting to simmer again. “If they can convince the members, they’ll come off looking like valiant heroes while Harm looks like some confused, shell-shocked sailor.”

“The strength is going to be in Cmdr. Rabb’s testimony. Are we really certain about his identification?”

Mac knew why he asked the question, but she couldn’t help the defensiveness in her response. “Sir, you weren’t there when he faced those men. I was. Harm is sure. That’s good enough for me.”

The admiral nodded. “It’s good enough for me too.”

“The trick,” Mac conceded, “is going to be making sure it’s good enough for the jury. Admiral, a big stumbling block is motive. Neither of the accused is even Muslim, so we’re going to have a hard time convincing the members why they would want to go over to the other side. Is there any way we can get a look at that CIA dossier you mentioned? There has to be a bigger picture here that we aren’t seeing.”

“I’ll talk to Webb,” the admiral offered immediately, “but you know what working with him is like.”

“Unfortunately, sir, I do.”

As soon as the admiral dismissed her, Mac went to her office and phoned Harm’s apartment. His voicemail kicked in on the fourth ring. “Harm, are you there? Please pick up.”

She waited, but there was no response. Hanging up, she dialed his cell. It rang three times before he finally answered. The connection was crackly and he sounded like he was in a wind tunnel. “Where are you?” she shouted.

“On my way to see the other Sarah in my life,” he quipped, “but if you need something, I can turn around...”

“Don’t you dare!” she ordered. “Go and enjoy yourself. I was just wondering if you’re okay, but I see you’re seeking therapy.”

He laughed. “You know me too well, Mac.”

“Does that bother you?” she teased.

“If it was anyone else, I’d be super worried,” he replied, “but since it’s you...”

He left the thought hanging and Mac had half a mind to call him on it, but decided to let it ride for now. “Have fun, Harm.”

“I will.”

Still smiling, Harm punched the disconnect button on the phone’s hands-free unit. Mac did know him too well. Flying had always been like therapy to him and he was truly looking forward to spending an afternoon diving, rolling and punching through the clouds. That, for him, was the true meaning of getting away from it all. There was only one thing he could think of that would have made it better, but Mac was...occupied.

The bright yellow biplane was waiting for him, gassed up and ready to go. He’d called the airfield the moment the admiral relieved him for the day. Taking ‘Sarah’ up was the only thing he could think of to take his mind off things. If he didn’t, he’d have been all over Sturgis and Mac, orders to the contrary be damned.

Climbing into the plane, he spun his cap around, put on his headset and fired up the engine. The moment the wheels left the ground, Harm felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Up here, he was in control. There was no one to give him orders, call the shots or tell him what to think, what to feel.

Climbing as steeply as he dared, he punched through a small cloud, leveled off and immediately executed a barrel roll. Grinning widely, he completed a three-sixty loop and, on a whim, added another barrel roll at the bottom.

Harm had executed similar moves at nearly supersonic speeds in a Tomcat, and that took every ounce of concentration he had, but at these speeds, the moves felt almost lazy, as if he was drifting in the sky, not flying through it.

He needed this. Soon enough, reality would set in again, calling on him to face demons that were becoming all too familiar companions, but for now, for a few blessed hours, nothing existed except Harm, the plane, and the fluffy white clouds that were his playground.

****

By the time Mac got home that night, her head was spinning. She and Sturgis had gone over the case what felt like a hundred times, trading off the role of devil’s advocate, trying to anticipate every angle the defense attorneys might try.

The two Marines had retained one of the most powerful law firms in Washington, and that in itself was suspicious. Where were they getting the money to afford lawyers the caliber of C.L. Lund and Associates? She’d never personally gone up against Lund, but she knew his reputation. If he thought it would help him win a case, he’d put his own mother on the stand and tear her to shreds.

Sitting down on the corner of the sofa, Mac curled her legs under her and picked up one of the three large references she’d brought home with her. She needed to review every case that was even remotely similar, looking for any precedent or ruling the defense might use to their advantage.

Ten minutes later, she put the big book aside. She’d just read the same paragraph for the third time and still didn’t know what it said. Her concentration was shot. Knowing she needed a break, she took a few moments to make a cup of tea, then picked up the phone. She needed to talk to Harm, just to hear his voice, to make sure he was all right.

He answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey there, flyboy. Enjoy your day?”

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, I did. It was a perfect day for flying. If I hadn’t run low on fuel and daylight, I’d probably still be up there.”

He sounded genuinely happy and somehow, that surprised her. Harm wasn’t known for doing emotional one-eighties like this. “Well, I’m glad you had a good day. You deserve it,” she said honestly. “Are you...okay otherwise? How are you feeling about—”

“I’d rather not talk about that right now, Mac,” he said quickly. “There will be plenty of time to talk about it. This isn’t going to be a quick case.”

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not. I just wanted to be sure you were all right. I know how hard it is for you.”

“That’s the way it goes sometimes. Don’t make a big deal out of this, Mac. I’ll be okay. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a stir fry on the stove. Talk to you tomorrow.” He hung up before she even had a chance to say goodbye.

Very slowly, Mac hung up the phone. That was not what she’d been expecting. It was like talking to a stranger. The only time she’d heard any animation in his voice was when he talked about flying. The rest had been delivered in a flat monotone that just wasn’t Harm. Now she was really worried.

****

Mac was still concerned about him when she crawled into bed a few hours later. She couldn’t do any more tonight, but she would talk to him tomorrow. Maybe then she’d get a better feel for what was going on with him.

The incessant chirping of the beside phone dragged Mac out of a sound sleep a few hours later. Glancing at the clock, she fumbled for the phone.

“Col. MacKenzie, it’s Admiral Chegwidden. I’m sorry to disturb you, but—”

Mac sat bolt upright. Harm! Was he hurt? Was he— She clamped down on the wild thought shooting through her brain. “No sir, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

“You’re needed down here at the morgue. There’s been an...accident.”

****

Mac flew through the front door of the morgue a short time later. She hadn’t bothered with a uniform, just a pair of jeans and a sweater. The admiral was waiting for her inside the door. He was even more casually dressed, in a pair of USN sweats.

“Sir, I got here as quickly as I could. What happened? What’s...who...?”

She realized then that she was babbling frantically and the admiral must have realized it too. He put a steadying hand on her arm. “Colonel, it’s one of the prisoners. Who did you think—” His eyes suddenly got big and round. “Oh, my God! You thought.... Colonel, I’m sorry. I should have been more specific on the phone.”

Mac’s equilibrium was returning. “That’s all right, sir. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. One of the prisoners is dead?”

“Yes. Lt. Haines. He was killed by another prisoner, supposedly in a scuffle over a magazine.”

“Supposedly?”

“Supposedly.” The voice came from behind her. Mac turned as Clayton Webb strode up. “We think he was murdered.”

Without another word, Webb led the way to an empty conference room. “Colonel, Admiral, what I’m about to say cannot leave this room.”

It was the kind of theatrics Webb was famous for, and the very thing Mac had little patience for – especially tonight. “Just spit it out.”

“All right, you want the bare-bones version, here it is. We believe the two men you were holding were Al Qaeda agents who infiltrated the US Marine Corps, possibly as much as eight or nine years ago.”

“What do you mean ‘infiltrated’?” the admiral asked, beating Mac to it.

“I mean they were planted as covert operatives. Their entire career in the Marine Corps was one long intelligence gathering mission.”
Mac stared at Webb, the enormity of what he was saying settling heavily in her mind. A second thought followed almost immediately, smacking her from the other side. “This is exactly what we need to prove motive!”

Webb’s brow wrinkled. “Didn’t you hear me? This is highly classified. None of this can come out in your case against the remaining man.”

“But—”

The admiral interrupted. “Then you want us to proceed against the other one.”

“You’ll have to. It would look too suspicious if you just suddenly dropped the case. To be honest, we would have preferred if you’d kept the hell out of it, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.”

“No kidding,” Mac spat.

“Look, Colonel, I’m as bothered by what happened to Rabb as you are, but there’s a larger issue here.”

“There’s always a larger issue for you,” she retorted sharply.

He fired a pleading look at the admiral, who very quietly folded his arms across his chest. “Hear him out, Colonel, then we’ll decide what to do.”

“You two just don’t get it, do you?” Webb cried. “The decision has been made. You will build the best case you can against Lt. Potter with the evidence you’ve got, not including anything you learn here tonight.”

“But we need this!” Mac insisted.

“You can’t have it!”

The admiral interceded, physically placing himself between Mac and Web. It was a good thing too, because Mac was getting ready to deck the little weasel.

“Mr. Webb,” the admiral said calmly. “What is it you’re not telling us?”

Webb paused, his gaze darting from one to the other, then he let out a sigh. “There are more of them.”

“More?” the admiral repeated, incredulous. “More Al Qaeda in the Marine Corps?”
“That’s right. We think there were ten in total. Four were identified when they were killed, we think by their own people. You had two more. That leaves four.”

“If you know about them,” Mac said carefully, “what are they still doing in the Corps? Why haven’t you apprehended them?”

“We’re getting ready to. Once we have, I might, and I say might be able to release certain details for your case.”

“When are you planning the apprehensions?” Chegwidden asked.

“In nine days. We might have to move that schedule up a bit. We think Lt. Haines was killed because he knew too much about the operation. We don’t know how much Potter knows, so he’s been transferred to an ultra-secure facility.”

Mac shook her head. “It’s not good enough. The trial starts in two days. I need that information to build my case against Potter.”

“It has to be this way. I’m sorry, Colonel.”

Mac almost believed him. She knew Webb had been there when Harm was extracted from the prison. He’d hinted earlier that he’d seen the condition Harm was in when they pulled him out of that hole in the ground. Maybe he truly was sorry, but he was also a pompous little prick with an inflated sense of his own importance. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d put his own interests ahead of theirs.

She strode to the door, but stopped, her hand on the knob. “I’ll see if I can get a continuance, Webb, but you’d better get on with it. Do what you need to do so I can do the same!”

JAG HQ – 08:05

Mac hurried into the building, intent on finding Harm before someone blurted out the news about Haines. She was too late.

The minute she stepped into the bullpen, she heard the buzz of conversation. Everyone was talking about it and Harm’s office door was very conspicuously closed.

Dropping her stuff on her desk, she hurried next door. She knocked, but it was a long time before he finally called out for her to enter. She slipped in and closed the door behind her. “I assume you’ve heard.”

He glanced up from the file he was working on, and a momentary look of confusion crossed his face. “What, about Haines? Yeah, I heard.” With a slight shrug, he returned his attention to the papers in front of him.

Mac didn’t quite know how to respond to his complete indifference. “Uh, we’re proceeding as scheduled with Potter. The trial starts tomorrow.”

He didn’t even look up. “I know when it starts.”

Mac waited, but he didn’t say any more, didn’t even act like she was there. “Harm?”

He glanced up. “Yeah, Mac? Is there something you need?”

“Uh, no, I just thought you might want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t. There’s nothing to talk about. As far as I’m concerned, Haines is right where he belongs: in hell. Now, I’ve got work to do, so if there’s nothing else....”

Mac stared at him, apprehension skittering up and down her spine. This just wasn’t like Harm. He should be jumping for joy, or mad as hell at being denied retribution, or glad there would only be one trial instead of two – something! Instead, he sat there working away like there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

A firm resolve settling inside her, Mac turned and closed the window blinds. That got his attention. He looked up, licking his lips as if his mouth had gone dry. She went around the desk, stopping beside him. “We need to talk.”

He rose to his feet, slipping past her to stop in the middle of the office. “Maybe you need to talk. I don’t.”

“Now why don’t I really believe that?” she asked softly, moving closer to him.

“I don’t know,” he responded sharply, “because it’s the truth.”

Without even thinking about it, Mac reached to brush an errant lock of hair off his forehead, but he jerked away almost violently. “Mac, don’t.”

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “Harm, please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

“I have to!” he cried, literally backing away from her.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because if I have to get up on that witness stand and tell the whole damned world what happened to me, I need some distance from it, some separation. I need to be able to pretend it happened to someone else!”

“But does that mean you have to shut me out of your life like this?”

“For now, yes it does.” He sounded saddened by his admission, and that only made it all the more confusing.

He paced a few steps away then turned to face her. “Mac, I know you don’t understand. I’m not sure I do either. I only know that you make me feel things and right now, that’s a luxury I can’t afford, because when I start to feel anything at all, I can’t stop. I get the good, the bad and the ugly all at once. It’s all or nothing.”

“I...I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize I reminded you of all the horrible things that happened to you.”

“No! That’s not what I mean! You don’t remind me of those things, you remind me of all the reasons I wanted to live through them. Damn it, Mac, I can’t explain it any better. I just need to keep a grip on all my emotions right now, but every time I look at you, all I want to do is lose control. I want that, but I don’t dare!”

Her heart in shreds, Mac felt as though she had just caved in on herself. There was nothing she wanted more than to take a few steps, closing the gap between them, and tell him it was okay to feel, but she couldn’t, because she understood now that it wasn’t the truth. Harm needed the numbness, the emotional barriers he’d erected around himself, even if it meant shutting out the people who cared about him. Even if it meant shutting her out.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Mac turned and silently left the room.

The moment the door closed, Harm dropped into his chair, rubbing his fingers against his palm in a futile attempt to wipe away the sweat. Why did she insist on pushing all the time? He was dealing with things the only way he could.

The next few days were going to be one long, continuous nightmare, and he had a lot of experience with nightmares now. He knew how to handle one. Live through it while it was happening, then try to forget.

****

That night, Harm didn’t get a wink of sleep. He didn’t even try. Filled with a restlessness he couldn’t control, he prowled the apartment until he was ready to tear with walls down with his bare hands.

From the time he was five years old, he’d taken everything life had thrown at him and somehow, he’d always managed to bounce back, but he wasn’t sure just how much bounce he had left in him.

The loss of his father had eaten at him for years, and still did every now and then. The ramp strike that killed his RIO and the subsequent loss of his flight status damn near crushed him, but he’d found a way back from it and discovered a new sense of purpose as a lawyer. He’d lived through dumping the Tomcat and survived the loss of more than one close friend.

And now this.

Every time he thought it was over, that he could begin looking for a way to put it behind him, it leapt back into his life with more force than a carrier catapult. The horrors he suffered in that Afghan prison happened months ago, but they still ruled his life. Virtually everything he said and did, thought and felt, was somehow connected with that damned prison.

No matter how hard he tried, Harm couldn’t think of a single thing in his life that hadn’t been affected by it, but what hurt the most was what it had done to his relationship with Mac.

He’d hurt her this morning, and several other times in the past few months. He’d pushed her away when she tried to comfort him, then clung to her when she wasn’t expecting it. He had confused her, alienated her, upset her, and probably even frightened her. Hell, he’d frightened himself a few times lately.

Angry and beyond caring, Harm spun around, taking a swipe at the kitchen counter. Two plastic bowls and a glass went flying. The glass hit the floor and shattered. Harm stood there looking at it, disgusted with himself. So much for controlling his emotions!

JAG HQ – 08:45

Mac handed the last few files to Sturgis, who slipped them into his briefcase and snapped it closed. He lifted it off the desk. “That’s it, we’re set. Are you going to the courtroom now?”

“No,” she said quickly. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Sturgis gave her one of those long, penetrating looks of his. “Okay,” he said finally. “Tell him I’m thinking about him.”

Feeling as transparent as glass, Mac shook her head as Sturgis left the office. She went out right behind him, but turned toward Harm’s office. For a change, the door was open.

He was working at the desk, intent on a file in front of him. She knocked softly and his head popped up. Mac took a few steps into the room. “I’m on my way to the courtroom. I just wanted to...stop by before I go in.”

“Thanks.”

“I...I wish you could be there, but until you give your testimony....”

“I know how it all works, Mac, and to be honest, I don’t think I want to be there anyway.” He shoved back from the desk, looking up at her for a long moment, his blue-gray eyes searching her face. Abruptly, he broke the connection, reaching to gather and shuffle the papers on his desk. “Good luck with your motion for a continuance, even if you won’t tell me why you need it.”

“Harm, I can’t tell you, or believe me, I would,” she said emphatically.

“I know. Like I said, I know how it all works.” He put a very neat stack of papers on the corner of his desk before finally looking up at her. His voice dropped to a low, much more personal tone. “I’ll be fine, Mac. Now go. You don’t want to be late.”

Somewhere, she found a tiny smile for him before hurrying out of the office.

****

Sturgis was waiting for her in the courtroom and the minute she saw him, she realized she hadn’t given Harm his message. She needed to get her mind focused, and quickly. That sort of lapse could be serious in here.

Mac wasn’t sure who was more surprised when she asked for the continuance, the judge or the defense counsel. Charles Lund was on his feet in an instant, arguing that his client deserved due process.

“Your honor,” Mac countered. “Our first responsibility is to the truth, and the Government cannot adequately present the truth without more time to prepare.”

The judge looked from her to Lund and back. “All right, Colonel. I’m granting you one week, but not a moment longer. I will hear opening arguments exactly five days from today.” She banged her gavel to emphasize her point.

Mac slowly sank into her chair. One week. That was one day too short. Webb’s operation to apprehend the other suspected infiltrators wouldn’t take place for six days. Leaving Sturgis to gather their files, she went straight to her office, swinging the door shut behind her.

Harm saw Mac come barreling in from the courtroom, headed for her office, and rose to meet her. She breezed through and slammed the door, right in his face.

Stopping abruptly, he stared at the closed door. Was she upset? Angry? Did they get the continuance? Frustration boiled up inside him. He couldn’t stand being in the dark like this! The whole trial revolved around possibly the most turbulent event in his life and he was being forced to watch from the sidelines. It was driving him nuts!

A firm hand came down on his shoulder. He turned to find Sturgis beside him. Damn! He really was losing it, letting someone slip up beside him like that without him even knowing about it. “How did it go?” he asked quietly.

“We got five days,” Sturgis replied.

“So why was Mac is such an all-fired hurry when she came through here?”

“I think,” Sturgis said with a mysterious half-smile, “she’s working on pulling off a miracle.”

****

Fingers drumming on the desk, Mac waited for Webb to answer his phone. When he finally did, she didn’t waste any time telling him what was happening. “I have five days, Clay. You’ve got to have your operation finished by then.” She took a deep breath, ready to argue him into the ground when he refused.

“You just may be in luck, Colonel.”

His words brought her up short. “Really?”

“Yes, really. For reasons of our own, we’ve had to move our timetable up. We will likely be wrapping up the night before you go back to court.”

“Then I’ll be able to use evidence from your operation?”

“Probably not as much as you’d like,” he told her. “I’ll have a file on your desk by 06:00 the morning after we finish up. Anything in there, you can use. In the meantime, and naturally this didn’t come from me, of course, you might want to have a closer look at the good Lt. Potter’s medical records, especially from when he was a child.”

Mac sat up very straight. “Childhood medical records? What are you getting at?”

“Come on, Mac. You’re a bright lady. I’ll let you figure it out.” Webb hung up before she could say another word.

Mac immediately began the process to subpoena Potter’s Marine Corps medical records and after a bit of digging through his service record, located his home town and the hospital he was born in. They agreed to initiate a search for the records, but couldn’t promise speedy delivery.

Wanting to tell Sturgis about the latest development, Mac headed for his office.

He was as enthusiastic as she was, but he couldn’t figure out what Webb had been hinting at either. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for the records.”

“I know,” she groaned, “but patience isn’t really my strong suit. I hate waiting!”

“That makes two of you,” Sturgis commented.

Mac frowned at him. He gave a small chuckle. “Harm’s trying hard to hide it, but he’s chomping at the bit out there.”

“I know he is, but there’s nothing we can do. He won’t even be allowed into the courtroom until he gives his testimony. God, this must be hard for him. I wish he’d talk to someone about it.”

“Someone,” Sturgis echoed, “or you?”

Mac couldn’t help the sadness that slipped into her voice. “Talking to me is the last thing he needs.”

****

Mac wasn’t sure how it was possible, but the next few days seemed to simultaneously fly and crawl by. One minute she was going crazy trying to get everything done, and the next she was cursing the slow drag of time as she waited for the hospital records.

When they finally did arrive, she quickly discovered it was worth the wait.

Hammering on Sturgis’s door, she charged in before he even had time to acknowledge her. “Look at this!”

She dropped the file on the desk in front of him. He scanned it quickly. “What am I looking for?”

“Right here,” she pointed quickly, almost bouncing. “See, Jonathan Potter had a rare genetic defect. He had extensive treatment for it when he was only a few days old.”

“Okay,” Sturgis said slowly. “And this means what?”

“I checked his Marine Corps records. There’s absolutely no mention of any genetic anomalies. It would have been recorded in his histological reports.”

“They do reports like that?” Sturgis sounded a little horrified.

Mac couldn’t help chuckling. “’Fraid so. They do complete blood analyses now to assist with identification. That’s how we positively identified him as Potter in the first place.”

“Right. Gotcha. But if his Marine and childhood records don’t match....”

“Then we have proof this man isn’t the real John Potter! Even if what we get from Webb is too limited to be conclusive, this will go a long way!”

Spinning on her heel, Mac was about to go find Harm and give him the good news, but stopped short. She couldn’t tell him. Damn! He could use some good news about now.

JAG HQ – 10:00

An unfamiliar nervousness fluttering in the pit of her stomach, Mac rose to begin her opening statement. She felt the eyes of everyone in the room descend upon her, and everyone who possibly could be here was, including Admiral Chegwidden. She’d seen him slip in a moment before the proceedings began.

Squaring her shoulders, Mac approached the panel. “Every one of us in this room,” she glanced at the two civilian attorneys at the defense table, “well, almost all of us, took an oath to defend our country, and the uniforms we wear symbolize that oath. Anyone can put on a uniform and march around a parade square when there is no threat to life or safety, but to serve in time of need takes courage and dedication. The man on trial today possesses neither.

“Lt. Potter is charged with deserted the US Marine Corps. The desertion of any Marine is a serious situation, but in Lt. Potter’s case, it is even more disturbing because he never intended to honor the oath he made to serve our country. The government will show that the lieutenant joined the Corps under false pretenses, with the express purpose of gathering information he hoped to use against us.

“When he found he couldn’t do that, he left to rejoin the Talaban forces, taking a much more active role in the ongoing threat of terrorist activity. As a guard in a Talaban prison, he participated in the vicious beating and torture of a naval officer who does possess the courage and dedication to serve in time of need.”

Mac hesitated, tempted for a moment to say more, but her point was made. With a glance at the famous Charles Lund, defense attorney, she took her seat.

Lund rose slowly, already beginning the grand-standing he was famous for. He approached the panel, his hands clasped behind his back. “The young man sitting in front of you today is not a terrorist. He has been a dedicated Marine for over five years. While serving his country, he was captured by an enemy force and thrown into a prison, where he suffered many of the same indignities Col. MacKenzie described of the naval officer.

“But despite the horrors he faced, when he came into contact with a Talaban rebel, who had been imprisoned for being at odds with his own command, Lt. Potter made an even greater sacrifice. When the prison was liberated, he chose to remain among the prisoners, in hopes of learning more from this rebel. So I guess you could say he was on an intelligence gathering mission after all, but not the one the colonel described. This young man is guilty of nothing more than trying, in his own way, to serve his country the best he could.”

As she listened to Lund’s glowing representation, Mac couldn’t help it. She felt like puking. She’d never been so disgusted by a defense strategy. Lund was standing there, presenting Potter as the Corps’s golden boy, when in reality, he’d been directly responsible for some of the most horrifying actions she’d ever been forced to conceive of.

The judge’s expression was impassive as she nodded to Mac. “You may begin, Colonel.”

Mac rose. “The government calls Col. Mason Storey.”

The door at the back of the room opened and Col. Storey came in, taking the witness stand. Mac administered the oath, then glanced briefly at her notes while the colonel settled in the chair on the stand. “Colonel, it was your strike force that claimed the prison from Talaban forces, is that right?”

“Correct.”

“Can you briefly describe for us the situation immediately following your takeover?”

“When the Talaban rebels realized we were going to take the place, they opened all of the cells and mingled among the prisoners. We weren’t able to tell immediately who was who.”

“And how were you able to finally sort out the guards from the prisoners?”

“With help from the prisoners themselves. Most of them had been there quite a while and were more than happy to point out the guards.”

“I see, and during this process, one of the prisoners identified Lt. Potter as being one of the guards?” Mac asked.

“That’s right.”

“Sir, did you know at this time that Lt. Potter was in fact, a Marine deserter?”

“Objection!” Lund cried. “It most certainly has not been established that the lieutenant is, in fact, a deserter.”

“I’ll rephrase,” Mac said quickly. “Colonel, when Lt. Potter was pointed out as one of the guards, did you know he was actually a lieutenant in the Marine Corps?”

“No, I certainly did not. If I had, I would have immediately removed him for medical attention and debriefing.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” She turned to the judge. “I have nothing further.”

The judge nodded to Lund. He rose and came around the table. “Colonel, are you aware that among the prisoners in the camp was a high ranking Talaban official who had been imprisoned for disagreeing with his superiors?”

“It came to light later,” the colonel admitted.

“How much later?”

“A few days.”

“And during the time this high ranking official was housed with the prisoners, did he have contact with Lt. Potter, who was also among the general prisoner population?”

“He might have,” Storey replied.. “I don’t know for sure.”

“So it’s possible. Thank you, Colonel. Let me ask you something. If you had been in that prison, and had learned that a Talaban rebel was among the prisoners, would you have attempted to get information from him that would assist our county’s efforts?”

“If I could,” Storey admitted slowly.

“And so do you think it’s unreasonable to assume Lt. Potter would not have done the same?”

“Objection!” Mac said quickly. “Calls for a conclusion.”

“Sustained,” the judge ruled.

Lund turned from the colonel. His smug expression told Mac he knew he’d made his point, objection or no. “I have no further questions, your honor.”

Mac’s next witness was the Marine Corps doctor who had prepared Lt. Potter’s medical reports, including the blood work. She was quickly able to establish that the blood samples drawn from the man who joined the Corps were not the same as those of the young child with the genetic defect.

Lund presented another doctor who came up with a possible explanation, but even Mac had to admit the testimony was weak. Mac was confident she’s scored a good solid point.

And then, much sooner than she was expecting, it was time. She rose almost reluctantly to her feet. “The government calls Commander Harmon Rabb.”

The door opened and Harm came up the aisle, his spine straight, his expression rigidly controlled.

As he strode into the familiar room, the silence roared in his ears. Every step he took, even the rustle of his clothes, was magnified in the utter quiet. As he approached the witness stand, he saw something unusual. Beside the stand, there was a the small table with a pitcher of water and a full glass on it. He knew immediately who had been responsible for seeing he had water to ease the dryness in his throat.

As Mac approached to administer the oath, her eyes met his, silently offering him her support. He couldn’t help it. He had to look away before he came apart right then and there. In a strong, clear voice, Mac administered the oath and he responded. He watched her turn and go back to the table, where she paused a moment, as if collecting her thoughts.

Mac could barely breathe. She’d seen the way Harm’s expression had changed a fraction of a second before he yanked his gaze away. At least some part of him resented her for putting him through this. With a strength she didn’t know she had, she gathered her wits about her and turned to face him.

“Commander Rabb, you were captured by Talaban forces during a recent mission to Afghanistan, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And you were held in the same prison Col. Storey later liberated?”

“Yes.”

“During the time you were held, how many guards were there?”

“It varied,” Harm answered. “Usually between four and six.”

“Is there anyone here today who was at the prison at the same time you were?” she asked.

“Yes.” His tone was as hard as ice.

“Who would that be?”

Harm’s gaze landed on Lt. Potter and Mac saw, just for an instant, the depth of the hatred in Harm’s eyes. Part of her wished the panel could have seen it too, but another part of her was glad that no one else had to witness the scars on his soul.

“The defendant, Lt. Potter, was there,” he said coldly.

“Was he, as he claims, another of the prisoners?”

“No, he was not. He was one of the guards.”

“Thank you, Commander. I have no further questions.” Letting out a pent up breath, Mac returned to her seat.

His heart pounding in his ears, Harm waited for cross examination. This was going to be the hard part.

At the defense table, Lund rose slowly to his feet, buttoning his expensive custom suit as he went. “Commander Rabb, please understand that we know what you’ve been through and we regret if this make things any harder on you.”

“Thank you,” Harm replied, keeping his voice steady, “but frankly, you don’t have a clue what I went through.”

The attorney’s head shot up. He eyed Harm for a moment, his gaze turning cold and hard. “Well then, why don’t you tell us?”
“I already did.”

“Yes, you gave us the cold facts, but I’d like you to go into more detail now. What was your condition when you were removed from the prison?”

“I was dehydrated and a little beat up,” he answered clearly. “And I’d lost a few pounds, but that was probably a good thing.”

He hard a few people snicker, including a couple of the panel members. Lund heard it too, Harm saw it in his eyes, but he recovered almost instantly. “You said you were a little beat up. Your captors beat you?”

“That’s right,” Harm couldn’t help the guarded tone slipping into his voice.

“How often?”

“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “Almost daily.”

“Almost. Does that mean every second day? Every third?”

“Objection!” Mac said loudly. “Relevance, your honor?”

“Commander Rabb’s recollections of his incarceration aren’t only relevant, your honor,” Lund argued. “They’re critical to this case.”

The judge frowned. “I’ll allow it, counselor, but make your point quickly.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Lund turned back to Harm. “So, you can’t recall exactly how often you were beaten, but it was obviously quite frequent.”

“Very frequent,” Harm replied, his tone tight and hard.

“What did they use?”

Harm hesitated, not sure what the man was asking.

“What did they use to beat you? Their fists? Clubs? What did they use?” Lund repeated.

Harm swallowed hard. He stalled for time by reaching for the water glass. There were some things about the prison he’d never told anyone and vowed he never would. Now, he was forced to break that vow in order to honor another one.

“Commander,” Lund prompted. “Please answer the question.”

“Yes, they used clubs.” Beyond Lund’s shoulder, Harm saw Mac close her eyes.

“What else?” Lund asked quickly.

Harm hesitated again. What was the point to this? Did the man get some kind of vicarious thrill out of hearing this? His hands curled into fists. “They also used some kind of stiff leather strap and what looked like a piece of chain.”

Harm swore he saw some of the color drain from Mac’s face. In the gallery, even the admiral looked a little disturbed.

“So, you were beaten, almost daily, with clubs, straps and chains, is that right?”

“Objection!” Mac nearly shouted. “Asked and answered!”

“I agree, Colonel,” the judge said quickly. “Move on, Counselor.”

“Yes, your honor,” Lund replied calmly. “Commander, when you were finally liberated from your cell, did you know what day it was?”

“Not at the time,” Harm ground out.

“Did you even know what month it was?”

“Not really.”

“How long were you in that cell, Commander?”

“Three and a half months.” Harm’s blood was beginning to boil, but he somehow managed to keep a grip on himself.

“That’s what you were told later, isn’t it? When you were down there, you really didn’t know how long it had been, did you?”

“No.”

“So, you were taken out of there, beaten and confused, not even knowing what month it was, yet my client’s face is such a clear memory, you were able to identify him months later?”

“Yes,” he spat.

“You sound so certain, Commander. Why is that?”

“Because I’ve seen that face a thousand times since then,” Harm growled. “Day and night.”

Lund pounced. “At night? Does that mean you have nightmares about what happened?”

“Occasionally,” Harm answered. It was stretching the truth, but he realized now the opening he’d given Lund.

“I see. And in these nightmares, you see my client, participating in the torture you’ve described for us?”

“Sometimes.”

“Then couldn’t it be these nightmare images you’re remembering, and not actual events from your incarceration?”

Harm’s jaw muscles clenched till they ached. “No.”

“How can you be certain?”

Harm’s gaze snapped to Mac. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, gripping her pen so hard it was about to snap. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she knew what was coming, what he would have to admit to.

An icy calm slid up Harm’s spine as he turned back to Lund. “Because in the beginning, I was unable to recall the actual images from my nightmares. I didn’t start recalling them until after I identified Lt. Potter.”

Lund hesitated, but Harm knew it was only for effect. “I see,” he said slowly. “So, after you identified my client, then his face began appearing in your dreams. That’s very interesting. And exactly what was he doing in your dreams?”

“That,” Harm spat, “is none of your business!”

Mac was halfway to her feet, but Lund raised his hand. “I withdraw the question.” He turned back to Harm. “Commander, why do you think this happened to you?”

“Excuse me?” Harm asked with a frown. “I don’t understand the question.”

“I’m asking why you think this happened to you, Commander, and not someone else. Were you just some poor guy in the wrong place at the wrong time, or—”

“Objection!” Mac was on her feet. “Your honor, please! This whole line of questioning is—”

Harm held up his hand, meeting her gaze. “No, it’s all right. I’d like to answer him.”

Mac’s gaze locked with his, her eyes filled with sorrow. He gave her a slow nod, silently telling her it really was okay. Very slowly, she sank back into her seat.

Harm turned to Lund. “That’s the easiest question you’ve asked me. Was I some poor guy in the wrong place at the wrong time? No. I was in the right place. Why did it happen to me? Because I took an oath to defend our constitution and the freedoms we enjoy under it. I went through what I did, Mr. Lund, so civilians like yourself don’t have to.”

In all her years as an attorney, Mac had never felt like applauding a witness’s testimony, but she felt that way now. She felt like standing up and cheering. She knew, probably better than anyone, what it cost Harm to get up on the stand, but he’d weathered each and every one of Lund’s questions and when the attorney tried to make it personal, Harm had put his own spin on that as well.

His comments to Lund would speak to the heart and soul of every member of the panel, but more than that, they were the truth. Even Lund seemed shaken by Harm’s words. For a moment, the celebrated defense attorney simply stared at the tall, proud man on the witness stand, then very slowly he turned back to the defense table.

“I have no further questions,” he said softly.

****

Once Harm had given his testimony, he was free to stay and watch the proceedings. He made it through the afternoon, but knew he wouldn’t be back in the morning. He couldn’t sit there passively, listening to it all.

Dead tired but reluctant to go to bed early and give the nightmares even more time at him, he sat in the living area of the loft, trying to concentrate on some work he’d brought home with him. It was hopeless. His concentration was shot. Tossing the file aside, he went to the stereo, digging through a stack of CDs. The one he wanted should have been in the stack, but it wasn’t. Annoyed, he tossed the entire stack into a chair. Several of them bounced off the back and clattered to the floor.

“Damn it!” He knelt to pick them up just as the door to the apartment opened. Mac popped her head in, her face filled with concern.

“Harm, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Just paying the price for my temper.”

Mac slipped through the door and closed it behind her. Without a word, she knelt to help him retrieve the CDs. He grabbed the last of them and stood up. Mac rose as well, handing him the ones she’d picked up.

“Thanks,” he muttered, putting the CDs away.

“You disappeared so fast after work today I didn’t have a chance to congratulate you.”

“For what, not falling apart? Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

His words stung and this time, she decided not to hide the fact. “Hey, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Instantly, his expression turned apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mac. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“What’s wrong? You really did do a good job in there today. I wasn’t just saying that.”

“I know you weren’t. I guess I’m just fed up with it, that’s all. I just wish it would end. I’m so sick of it!”

Mac watched him stalk to the fridge and pull out a personal size bottle of water. He twisted off the cap with a angry snap of the wrist and downed nearly the whole bottle without stopping.

“We’ll be finished presenting our case by noon tomorrow. I figure the defense will probably take at least two days, but then it will be over,” she told him.

“Will it?” he demanded. Recapping the bottle, he tossed it in the sink. “Or will something else come up? Sometimes I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life dealing with the fallout from this thing.”

Mac crossed to him, putting a gentle hand on his arm. For the first time in ages, he didn’t pull away. She squeezed tight. “I know it feels that way, but it will end. I promise you.”

“Why did this have to come up now?” he asked quietly. “I was just starting to get myself squared away again. Even the nightmares had stopped.”

“Had stopped?” she repeated. “They’re back?”

“Oh yeah, they’re back. Worse than before.”

“Harm, why didn’t you tell me?”

He paced away again. “What did you want me to do, announce it on the P.A.? Your attention please. Cmdr. Rabb is holding nightly showings of Horrors In An Afghan Prison. Anyone interested, just show up in his bedroom.”

Mac’s heart turned over. “Oh, Harm, I didn’t know it had been this hard on you.”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” he said sharply. His expression softened suddenly and he took a step closer to her. “You had enough on your plate building the case without having to worry about how it was affecting me.”

For a moment, Mac simply looked at him, wondering how on earth he could be worried about her when his whole life was falling down around his ears. A tiny smile touched his lips. “Looks like my strategy worked, too. You were phenomenal.”

She shook her head. “Not me. I had the easy part. You’re the one who had to answer the questions. All I had to do was ask them.”

“Hey,” he said softly. “that wasn’t easy for you, and I know it. Thanks, Mac. You made it as painless for me as you could.

“Lund sure didn’t,” she snorted.

“No,” he admitted, “but I was expecting it...well, most of it anyway.”

She cupped his face in her palm, feeling the rough stubble of his five o’clock shadow. “You really did do well.”

With a slight dip of his head, he brushed his cheek against her palm. “And the worst is over, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is,” she whispered, lost in the tumultuous blue-gray sea of his eyes.

Very slowly, he tilted his head and kissed her so gently she nearly melted. Slipping his arms around her, he pulled her close.

As Mac’s arms closed around him, an ache he couldn’t name rose inside Harm. He wanted to stay like this forever, just holding her, with nothing between them but the air they breathed.

But he couldn’t do that. Much too soon, he would have to let go. She had to go home and they both had to get ready for tomorrow. The worst might be over, but the proverbial “fat-lady” hadn’t sung yet. There was still at least one more act in this little play.

****

Searing agony was the first sensation Harm became aware of. It spread through his entire body with the speed of a lightening bolt. Hanging by his arms in total darkness, he was conscious of nothing except the pain. It made him want to pass out, but was so excruciating, it kept him from doing so.

“Harm?”

As if on stage, Mac suddenly appeared before him, lit by a spotlight from above. She stretched out her arms toward him, but she was too far away. She couldn’t reach him.

“No!” he cried through cracked and split lips. “Go back! It’s not safe here. Go, Mac! Please!”

“I can’t leave you,” she said sadly. “You know that. Wherever you go, I go. You’re pain is my pain and I can’t help sharing it with you.”

In another sudden spotlight, Potter appeared, dressed again in the filthy garb he’d worn at the prison. Helplessly, Harm watched as the spotlight moved, carrying Potter with it. Closer and closer, till it converged with the light surrounding Mac. Potter grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back.

Mac was an accomplished fighter. Harm had seen her take out more than one would-be assailant, but this time, she didn’t fight back. She just screamed his name.

Potter backhanded her and Mac dropped like a rock, landing in a heap at Potter’s feet. Harm struggled desperately against unseen bonds as Potter knelt, running the back of his filthy hand across Mac’s cheek.

“You haven’t had her yet,” Potter whispered. “You don’t know the pleasure to be had, lying between her legs, do you, Rabb? You don’t know how her eyes go dark and her body soft, but I will. I’ll know her better than you do when this is over.”

“No!” he choked, wrenching against his restraints. “Don’t touch her! Please don’t do this!”

With a twisted, evil grin, Potter reached down and ripped open the front of Mac’s shirt. “Come stop me then.”

If he could have, Harm would have ripped off his own arms to escape the bonds. “No!” he screamed. “Oh God, Mac! No!”

JAG HQ – 11:20

His eyes gritty and burning, Harm gave up trying to read the ridiculously small print in the legal reference open in front of him. He’d had a sum total of two hours sleep last night. After the nightmare, he’d been literally afraid to try for more.

Slamming the book shut, he shoved it aside. A sharp rap on the door made him jump. “Enter!” he growled.

Lt. Singer pushed the door open and came in, extending a file to him. “The case you requested, sir.”

He took the file, avoiding her piercing gaze. “Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be all.”

“Yes sir.”

Harm opened the file, took one look at the name on the top and slammed it shut. “Lieutenant, I asked for the file on Terrance Spears. This is for a Kenneth Spears.”

Singer looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, sir.” But, as usual, any sign of underlying humanity in the woman vanished quickly. She picked up the file off the desk, muttering very softly, “I’m surprised you even noticed.”

Harm slammed his palms flat against the desk as he shot to his feet. “Yes, I noticed, Lieutenant! There’s nothing wrong with my eyesight, or my hearing! You care to tell me what you meant by that remark?”

“If I’m being give the choice, sir—”

“You aren’t! You brought me the wrong file, then made a snide comment when I called you on it. I will not tolerate that kind of behavior! Is that clear?”

For a moment, Singer simply stared at him, and he realized the entire bullpen had gone silently, all eyes turned toward his open door. Very quietly, Singer offered a “yes sir” and beat a quick retreat.

Harm let out a frustrated breath, wondering if he should try to apologize, but before he could decide, the admiral appeared in the doorway. Harm snapped to attention as he came in and very softly closed the door. “At ease, Commander. Care to tell me what that was all about?”

Harm resisted the urge to squirm. “As I’m sure you – and everybody else – heard, Lt. Singer made a sarcastic remark. Sir, I apologize for making it into a public event.”

Tilting his head slightly to one side, the admiral regarded Harm silently and the urge to squirm became almost unbearable, but somehow, he managed to keep still. “You seem a little...testy...Commander.”

“I suppose I am, sir. Again, I am sorry, and I intend to apologize to Lt. Singer at the first opportunity.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” the admiral agreed, his tone tinged with that oh-so-dry sarcasm of his. “But in the meantime, would you care to tell me what’s bothering you, as if I didn’t know.”

“Admiral, with all due respect, sir, if you know, then you don’t have to ask, and unless you’re making it an order, I don’t have to answer.”

Again, Chegwidden observed him silently for a moment. “No, I’m not making it an order, Commander, but I will make an observation. If this thing is getting to you that badly, don’t just sit on it. Do something about it before it eats you alive, son.”

Turning, the admiral went out before Harm could even begin to think of a reply.

JAG HQ – 15:25 Three days later

The moment Harm had been waiting for, and dreading, was finally at hand. In just a few short minutes it would finally be over.

“The accused and counsel will rise.” The judge waited till Potter and his attorneys were on their feet, then turned to the panel. “You may publish your findings.”

Harm refused to look at the panel, staring resolutely straight ahead, but every word seared into him.

“Lt. Jonathan Potter, on all charges and specifications, the panel finds you guilty, and recommends the maximum penalty allowed under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.”

Potter spun around, glaring at Mac. “It’s all your fault!” He jerked his head in Harm’s direction. “What I did to him? It’s only half what I would do to you, impudent bitch!” He lunged suddenly, reaching for Mac.

In that instant, Harm’s tenuous control finally snapped.

He wasn’t even aware of moving, but suddenly, he was on top of Potter, fists flying. Months of frustration, humiliation and rage boiled up in one savage moment and some small part of Harm knew that if he could only get a hold of Potter’s throat, he would kill him – here and now – with his bare hands.

The rest was a blur. Several sets of hands clawed at him, but he twisted away, intent only on Potter’s bloody face beneath him. But there were too many hands. He couldn’t avoid them all. Despite his efforts, they finally pulled him away.

Very slowly, Harm’s field of vision widened to normal and he realized he was kneeling on the courtroom floor. The admiral had him by the right arm, the Master At Arms held his left, and Sturgis had a shoulder braced against his chest.

Sturgis was the first to let go, slowly releasing him and getting to his feet. Before Harm could react, the admiral and the Master At Arms hauled him to his feet, turned and half-led, half-dragged him out into the hallway.

Still gripping Harm’s wrist and shoulder, the admiral fired a quick, hard look at the Master At Arms. “Dismissed!”

The man disappeared like he’d been shot out of a gun.

Still stunned, Harm tried to find his voice. “Admiral—”

Eyes flashing, Chegwidden gave him a hard shove, slamming him into the wall, then braced his arm against Harm’s chest. “Not one word out of you, Commander, or I’ll nail your ass to this plaster permanently! You got that?”

Completely flabbergasted, all Harm could do was nod.

“I don’t know what the hell you were trying to prove in there, and I don’t want to know! Under the circumstances, tackling the man might have been warranted, but you went way beyond that!”

Harm knew the admiral had warned him to be quiet, but he didn’t give a damn anymore. “Can you blame me?” he snarled. “You heard what he said to Mac.”

Chegwidden held him pressed to the wall a second longer, then broke away suddenly, heaving a huge sigh. “No, I don’t blame you for wanting to take him down. The thought crossed my own mind, but I didn’t act on the impulse, you did!” He took another half a step back. “We’re all on edge, Commander, apparently me included. I hope you’ll forgive the...rough treatment a minute ago. Considering everything you’ve been through, I’m going to cut you a lot of slack here. I should be demanding your resignation, but considering how hard I tried to talk you into putting that uniform back on, I’d like to see you stay in it, but you seriously need to get a grip, Commander.”

The admiral was right. He’d lost it completely in there, and that was something he’d never done before, but when Potter made reference to what he would do to Mac, all the heinous, brutal images from his nightmares came flooding to the surface. “Sir, I do apologize,” he said quietly. “There was no excuse for—”

“No, Commander. You did have an excuse, and that’s the only reason you’re not in the brig right now.”

He was about to say more, but the courtroom door swung open and Mac rushed through. She spotted them and nearly skidded to a halt. The admiral’s gaze bounced between them, then he took a step back. “Colonel, I trust you’re all right?”

“I’m...fine, sir. He never touched me. Admiral, may I have a word with Cmdr. Rabb?”

“I think that would be a very good idea, Colonel.” Turning, he disappeared back into the courtroom.

Mac came up to him, her eyes filled with compassion. “Are you okay?”

“I...” He saw the pain in her rich brown eyes and suddenly her words from his dream replayed in his mind. Where you go, I go. Your pain is my pain, too.

And suddenly, he knew it was true. Every heartache, sorrow and grief he suffered, she suffered too, and it was all because of what she’d blurted out that day in the desert after the helo crash. She loved him...and because of it, when he hurt, she hurt. Right now, his whole life was a world of hurt and, with a sudden, blinding clarity, Harm realized what that was doing to her.

And he knew only one way to stop it.

Without a word, Harm brushed past her abruptly and strode away toward the bullpen. Mac watched him go, her heart laid wide open and bleeding.

JAG HQ – 08:22

Standing in Harm’s office, Mac simply stared, watching him throwing personal possessions into a box. “You’re quitting?”

“No, I’m not quitting, Mac. I’m transferring.”

Her heart slammed into her shoes then rebounded into her throat. “Transferring? To where?”

“The Legal Service Office in Charleston.”

Mac felt her jaw drop open, but couldn’t do a thing about it. “Charleston, South Carolina? Harm, why? Is this because of what happened in the courtroom yesterday? Is it a disciplinary transfer? Did the admiral—”

He stopped packing long enough to fix her with a hard glare. “I requested it, Mac. I need to get out of here.”

The hard edge of anger slipped into her heart. “You’re running, just like you accused me of doing after Mic left.”

“I’m not running, Mac. I’m leaving. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “Leaving is permanent.”

He dragged the box off his desk, tucking it under his arm and snagging his cover off the file cabinet by the door. “That’s right. It is.”

Confused, devastated and ready to crumble, Mac turned in complete shock as he brushed past her and walked out. Without another word, without a single glance back, he strode through the bullpen and out the door – out of her life.

The End

This is part 3 of a 4 part series.

Part 1: In The Service Of His Country

Part 2: Once More Into The Breach

Part 4: Now And Forever